The Trouble with Teal'c
by custardpringle
Summary: Teal'c gets a new pet. Now finished, R&R please
1. Trouble with Teal'c

TITLE: The Trouble with Teal'c AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG for language, non-human cannibalism CATEGORY: drama, humor, crossover SUMMARY: Teal'c finds a new pet. 'Gate/Trek crossover. SPOILERS: I hope not. AUTHOR'S NOTE: No, Jack's stapler fetish has nothing to do with the actual plot. In fact, it has nothing to do with anything. And I don't know whether Teal'c has an apartment or not, but it was convenient for me to pretend, so don't hurt me. Please. I don't own these people. Wish I did, but I don't.  
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Teal'c walked into Daniel's office, narrowly avoiding a stack of large boxes near the door. "Good morning, Daniel Jackson."  
  
The archaeologist looked up from his translations. "Morning, Teal'c."  
  
"Why do you have these enormous boxes of snack food in your office?" the Jaffa inquired, his curiosity getting the best of him.  
  
"Oh . . . those. That's a stockpile of potato chips I found in a closet down the hall. Nobody else seemed to want any. You can have them if you want."  
  
"Daniel Jackson, I do not believe this is acceptable breakfast food."  
  
"It doesn't matter," Daniel groaned. "Just take them. I don't think I can finish them on my own before they go stale."  
  
Teal'c ate a chip cautiously, then consumed another handful with relish. "Thank you. These are quite good."  
  
-----  
  
Thirty-six hours later, SG-1 was seated at the briefing room table with an extremely disgruntled General Hammond.  
  
"You see, sir," Jack was explaining, "there was a very good reason why we couldn't explore the planet. Really."  
  
"And what might that be, Colonel?"  
  
"Well, actually, ah . . . you won't believe this, General, " Jackson interjected nervously.  
  
"Out with it, Doctor," Hammond frowned. "What happened?"  
  
"The ground was completely covered in heaps of small furry creatures. We couldn't have gone anywhere without crushing them. It was lucky that I could even get to the DHD to get us home."  
  
The General turned to look at Carter. "Major, do you have any idea why the MALP showed no sign of these things when we sent it through?"  
  
"None at all, sir," she said bemusedly. "But when we arrived, the probe was partly buried in the, um, animals."  
  
"Tribbles," said Jack suddenly. Everyone stared at him.  
  
"Sir?" said Sam in astonishment.  
  
"Those were tribbles. There's no other way to describe them."  
  
"Are these the same 'tribbles' that have appeared on Star Trek?" asked Teal'c curiously.  
  
Jackson nodded. "Jack, I think you've gotten this guy a little too into that show . . . "  
  
"Allow me to explain, Daniel Jackson," the Jaffa interrupted. "I found the purring of these animals to be quite soothing and brought one back with me, believing it to be a potential aid in meditation."  
  
"It should have been turned over to Doctor Fraiser for examination first," Hammond said.  
  
Teal'c nodded. "That is precisely why I chose to conceal it. I did not believe that possession of such an item would be condoned."  
  
"Whoa, T," Jack groaned. "You've only been here a few years and you're already learning to cheat the system. Hey, Daniel, what's up? You look kinda sick."  
  
Daniel had paled. "Teal'c, is the tribble in your room right now?"  
  
"Indeed it is."  
  
"Along with the potato chips I gave you yesterday?"  
  
"That is correct. Is there a problem?"  
  
"You could say that, yeah."  
  
Understanding flashed on O'Neill's face. "Don't you remember that episode, T?"  
  
"Yes," Teal'c nodded. "It would appear that we do indeed have a problem."  
  
"Wait a minute," Sam said in alarm. "What's going on here?"  
  
"Carter," explained Jack patiently," a tribble left alone with food produces more tribbles. Fast."  
  
She stood up in a hurry, followed by the rest of the team. "We'd better get down there."  
  
"Please do so, SG-1. Teal'c, once this has been resolved, I'll be wanting to have a word with you."  
  
There was no response, and General Hammond realized that the people he was addressing were gone. He was talking to an empty conference room.  
  
-----  
  
Barely two minutes later, SG-1 was racing down the corridor to Teal'c's room. Sam arrived first, opened the door, and confirmed their worst fears. "There are a lot of tribbles in here. A few hundred, I'd say."  
  
O'Neill groaned theatrically. "For crying out loud, T, what were you thinking? You're even more of a Star Trek fan than I am. You should've known better."  
  
The Jaffa looked at him. "That is true, O'Neill. However, it is also true that you have informed me many times of the show's wholly fictitious nature. The thought did occur to me momentarily, but I dismissed it as absurd." Unnoticed, a young, adventurous tribble edged towards them.  
  
"Great. Just great," Jack sighed. "Pin it on me, why don't you? And where did all these potato chips come from? What do you have to say for yourself, Daniel?"  
  
"Don't try to blame me, Jack. I found a huge stock of them in a storage room and shared with Teal'c. How was I supposed to know he'd decide to adopt a tribble?"  
  
"Damn." Still determined to find a scapegoat, the colonel whirled on Sam. "What about you, Carter?" Two more tribbles joined the first.  
  
"Me, sir?" asked the visibly startled major. "I had nothing whatsoever to do with this."  
  
He shrugged. "Well, since Teal'c and Daniel and I have each taken the blame for this mess in turn, I thought you might like to join in the fun."  
  
"Thanks, sir, but no thanks."  
  
"On the good side," Jackson pointed out, "thgey're all confined here. We can keep them contained until we return them to their own planet." As he spoke, the three wayward tribbles slipped between his legs and wandered down the hall.  
  
"Yeah, sure," Jack assented. "Let's just get rid of them as soon as possible. God knows what'll happen if they get out."  
  
-----  
  
The valiant escapees separated somewhere down the corridor. One fell asleep and was captured by an alert Trekker airman who took it to Dr. Fraiser to be quarantined. Another was found by a somewhat more ignorant soldier who said, "Hey, you must be somebody's pet. Amazing what they find off-world. I'll just let you stay in my quarters until I find out whose you are."  
  
Admittedly, this was fairly accurate, if not particularly wise.  
  
The third tribble hit the jackpot: the storage room where Daniel had found his potato chips. In what passed for thinking in a tribble brain (or lack thereof) it reasoned thus: a) This place contained a large quantity of edible material. Therefore, b) many tribbles could live here. Instinct provided the natural conclusion: c)many tribbles had to be produced. 


	2. More Trouble with Teal'c

TITLE: The Trouble with Teal'c AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG for language, non-human cannibalism CATEGORY: drama, humor, crossover SUMMARY: Teal'c finds a new pet. 'Gate/Trek crossover. SPOILERS: I hope not. AUTHOR'S NOTE: No, Jack's stapler fetish has nothing to do with the actual plot. In fact, it has nothing to do with anything. And I don't know whether Teal'c has an apartment or not, but it was convenient for me to pretend, so don't hurt me. Please. I don't own these people. Wish I did, but I don't.  
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It was fortunate that Dr. Fraiser had no patients, for it took her entire staff to carry enough specimen containers to get all the tribbles out of Teal'c's quarters. Eventually, though, what finally turned out to be nearly a thousand tribbles were successfully packed up and taken to the gate room  
  
Examining the telemetry from a UAV, Sam informed General Hammond, " The tribble population has grown alarmingly, sir. The Stargate there is almost one-third buried in them."  
  
"That could be a problem," groaned Jack, who had come with them to escape the menial labor. "And don't raise your eyebrows like that, Carter, you look like Teal'c."  
  
"Sorry, sir." She was, if anything, more bemused than ever, but she managed to keep the offending facial features in check with a supreme effort.  
  
This resolved, the colonel continued more seriously, "Is there any way we could just lift those boxes up and just dump them through the Gate on top of their friends?"  
  
"I believe there's a small forklift somewhere on base," confirmed Hammond. "I'll get it here as soon as possible." He left the room to see about it.  
  
O'Neill flopped into a chair. "A forklift, Carter. A forklift. You can find damn near anything on this base, can't you?"  
  
Sam sat down next to him. "If that's true, sir, than why did I spend over two hours yesterday hunting for a stapler?"  
  
"An excellent point, Major."  
  
"Actually, it was hidden in your office," Carter informed him with a smug smile.  
  
Jack gaped. "Really?"  
  
She could barely suppress laughter at the memory. "Along with several others. You have quite a collection, sir."  
  
He was rescued from further discussion of the topic by Hammond's return and the simultaneous rumble of machinery entering the room below.  
  
Jack got up reluctantly. "Can I help out, sir? Betcha Daniel would rather not have anything to do with that forklift."  
  
Hammond waved him out. "Go ahead, Colonel."  
  
Shortly afterward, Daniel joined the two of them in the control room, and all three watched and monitored the UAV video for over an houras the containers were emptied one by one through the Stargate.  
  
-----  
  
Later that evening, a few levels up, an excessively compassionate airman came off duty and headed for her bunkroom, looking forward to a dip into her secret candy stash. She opened the door, saw what was inside, and fainted. A passing friend insisted on taking her to the infirmary, and was so concerned that he never bothered to shut the door.  
  
Down the corridor from Daniel's office, the commissary's head chef was astonished to discover that most of the food in a certain closet had been replaced by triblles. He had the presence of mind to close the door once he got over the initial shock, but not before half a dozen more had escaped.  
  
By then, it was nearly 2300 hours and almost everyone had gone home. The base was currently on standdown, and nobody was there unless they absolutely had to be. It was a long time before the few remaining were able to call in sufficient backup.  
  
General Hammond arrived first, along with a yawning security team stumbling behind him. "What's going on here, Michaels?" he demanded. "Do you realice it's nearly midnight?"  
  
"Yes, sir, I do," replied the nervous cadet. "But, um, well, the base seems to be with infested with . . . er . . ."  
  
"Out with it, miss," Hammond snapped.  
  
"Tribbles, sir. There were a lot in my bunnkroom, and anouther population in one of the food storage areas, and we think they're spreading fast."  
  
"Tribbles? Again?" The abruptly fully awake general resisted an urge to bang his head against the nearest wall.  
  
"Yes, sir. Has this happened before?" asked Michaels, who was by now as confused as she could possibly get.  
  
"Never mind," Hammond sighed. "We'll need to wake up some more people. Call SG-1; this whole mess is their fault and they might as well help fix it. Also call Doctor Fraiser, alonf with her staff, and see if you can find some more security people. Dismissed."  
  
The airman saluted and ran off. As soon as she was gone, General Hammond slipped out himself for a cup of coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need it. Badly.  
  
-----  
  
It was another half-hour before all necessary personnel had arrived on base. In that time, despite everyone's best efforts, the tribbles managed to spread almost through the whole base. One or two had even gotten into the control room; only the gate room and Hammond's office remained clear, through a special effort by the guards.  
  
Carter, Jackson, and Teal'c arriverd surprisingly quickly-barely ten minutes after they were called-having been together in Teal'c's apartment watching Star Wars (again). O'Neill, however, was conspicuously absent, and Hammond asked the obvious question.  
  
Daniel made a sympathetic face. "Jack said he had a lot of paperwork to do. He was still here when we left. I figured he'd gone home by now."  
  
Hammond shook his head. "There was no answer at the phone there."  
  
"He might still be in his office, sir," Sam offered. She picked up the phone, dialed, and let it ring a few times, then hung up. "No luck."  
  
Teal'c opened his mouth to comment, but was cut off when the phone rang almost as soon as it was set down. Sam grabbed it. "Hello?"  
  
"Dammit, Carter!" the speaker bellowed.  
  
She held it away from her ear. "Sir?" On second thought, Carter switched the phone to speaker so they could all hear, although that wasn't difficult anyway, considering the volume at which Jack was yelling.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you people? I've been trying to get through for half an hour. Let me talk to Daniel, will ya?"  
  
"Hi, Jack," greeted the archaeologist cautiously. "You're on speaker, by the way. No need to shout." The voice at the other end quieted slightly. "Hey, Danny. I'm afraid your food stores have gone the same way as Teal'c's."  
  
In the office, the rest of SG-1 looked at each other in confusion; the general had not yet explained the situation to them. "Jack," Daniel asked, "where are you?"  
  
"I'm trapped in your office, actually."  
  
"WHAT?" Jackson spluttered. "What the hell are you doing in my office?"In an uncharacteristic display of emotion, Teal'c raised both eyebrows.  
  
"I was trying to get a snack, and I didn't feel like going all the way to the commissary. By the way, gotta congratulate you on how well you've hid all your food from me. Problem is, some of Teal'c's little friends-"  
  
"They are not my friends, O'Neill," interrupted the Jaffa reprovingly.  
  
"Whatever they are, they had the same idea. What's more, I think they've found your secret hiding place, whatever it is, because they're three or four deep in here and still going."  
  
"And you are . . .?"  
  
" I'm perched on your desk, hoping not to get buried alive. And I didn't even find a measly candy bar, for crying out loud." Daniel resisted the urge to grin in pride at the success of his food-hiding skills.  
  
"Can you clear a path through them, Colonel?" suggested Hammond.  
  
"I tried, but the damn things just fall right back into place. It's like digging a hole in water, sir."  
  
"Step on them," Sam recommended. Daniel turned slightly green at the thought.  
  
"I tried that. Nearly broke my ankle sliding on tribble guts. And, what's worse, it would seem that tribble guts make excellent tribble food."  
  
All four people in the office made nauseated faces. "O'Neill," Teal'c rumbled, "that knowledge might have been best left unimparted."  
  
"Just get me outta here before I drown in these damn tribbles, okay? I'm beginning to understand all too well why the Klingons thought these things were evil."  
  
"We'll be right down, sir," Sam assured him.  
  
"And bring the biggest wheelbarrow you can get. You'll need it."  
  
"I don't think we have any wheelbarrows, Colonel."  
  
"Sure ya do. They're wherever you found that forklift." Jack hung up. 


	3. And in conclusion

TITLE: The Trouble with Teal'c AUTHOR: Cyn(di) EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com RATING: PG for language, non-human cannibalism CATEGORY: drama, humor, crossover SUMMARY: Teal'c finds a new pet. 'Gate/Trek crossover. SPOILERS: I hope not. AUTHOR'S NOTE: No, Jack's stapler fetish has nothing to do with the actual plot. In fact, it has nothing to do with anything. And I don't know whether Teal'c has an apartment or not, but it was convenient for me to pretend, so don't hurt me. Please. I don't own these people. Wish I did, but I don't.  
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The general looked around gravely. "Teal'c, Major Carter, Doctor Jackson, go see what you can find in the way of-" his mouth twitched-"wheelbarrows. I'll be monitoring the situation through the security cameras as soon as the control room is clear."  
  
The other three nodded and left. As they hurried down the corridor, scooping up the occasional errant tribble to be dealt with later, Sam muttered, "We'd better hope there are some staplers down there."  
  
"Why?" wondered Daniel, overhearing.  
  
"Colonel O'Neill keeps stealing mine." She rolled her eyes.  
  
"I think I have an extra. You can borrow it."  
-----  
  
Fifteen minutes later, said Colonel was standing on his best friends's desk, glowering at the sea of fur that was nearly up to his knees. Idly, Jack began fiddling with the stapler he had picked up from the desk, but he swiftly pocketed it when the door (which fortunately swung outward) opened. The glower softened slightly at the sight of his team with a large wheelbarrow. Each.  
  
"You were right, sir," Carter informed him in surprise. "We found an entire room filled with wheelbarrows on a lower level. They're helping enormously with the cleanup work."  
  
Daniel was looking around the room in dismay, although a large portion of it was no longer visible at all. "This place is going to be a mess. I won't be able to find anything."  
  
"I was not aware that your office was particularly organized to begin with, Daniel Jackson," said Teal'c helpfully.  
  
Jack finally lost patience. "Would you people cut the crap and get those things out of here?"  
  
-----  
  
It took little more than an hour to rescue Colonel O'Neill from Dr. Jackson's office, but that was by no means the end of what needed to be done. Over the next week, everybody who worked at the SGC, no matter what their rank or position, was enlisted to help get rid of the tribbles. Apart from a few lucky soldiers who were sent out to purchase additional cages and wheelbarrows, the entire base was busy carting the animals to the gate room and dumping them through onto their proper planet. Even General Hammond joined the labor for a few hours a day.  
  
Finally, though, they were gone. The final boxes were emptied through the Gate, which was locked out of the dialing computer. (Not that anyone could have gotten through; Major Carter estimated the Gate there would be totally buried in less than a month.) A cheer went up throughout the mountain when Hammond announced that the last tribbles were gone.  
  
-----  
  
Daniel Jackson sat in his blessedly tribble-free office, watching the printer spit out his report. There hadn't been much to report on, since they hadn't done anything on their last mission. Still, he had written a couple of pages about why they hadn't done anything, since he had to write something.  
  
All he had to do was staple it together, drop it on the General's desk, and finally get home for his first good night's sleep in a week.  
  
Wait a minute. Was that chirping coming from the ventilator?  
  
Daniel got up, looked through the grille, and saw nothing. Of course. He'd been hearing tribbles chirp incessantly for days, and the noise would probably be running through his head for a while yet. And where was the stapler, anyway? It didn't seem to be anywhere in his desk, although he had found a candy bar that had miraculously escaped the clutches of both tribbles and Jacks.  
  
Suddenly, Daniel stiffened, remembering something Sam had said to him. Something about staplers . . . He clenched his fists.  
  
"JACK!"  
  
-----  
  
Inside the ventilator shaft, the tribble cowered back further from the anger of the human outside. It knew it wasn't like this creature. In fact, there didn't seem to be any creatures like it anywhere. That would change, though, the tribble would have thought were it capable of doing so. All it had to do was get at the food the human was holding.  
  
Then it would have plenty of company.  
  
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Sorry, LiRA(). Being evil myself, I just didn't have the heart to kill the things. What was your idea? 


End file.
